


Daniel's Dreams are Waking Nightmares

by upquarkAO3



Series: Random Dross from Season Two [6]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Antarctic_Echoes had this nick for Dan in her Meta, Apologies!, But Chloe Ella and Amenadiel are very benignly themselves, Especially not Lucifer, Gen, I spaced, Morning Dan is Grouchy Dan, No one helps with that, There is a shriekingly loud Douglas Adams ref here, Wish I could be as funny as that guy, or his mum, whoops!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/upquarkAO3
Summary: "Dan dreams of the old police station and even though he can’t remember it when he wakes, it messes with him all the next morning."(Some instances of profanity. Dan is cranky. Apologies. Also, I've not written anything from Dan's POV, and I probably should've been nicer....but Dan exists to be messed with, so...apologies for that, too. Kinda :-)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grym/gifts).



> Seriously, the WHOLE STATION SET DEAL changed S2 and not one word? Not one? Lol, a gift for the person it befuddles as much as me ;-) Here's your ficlet, Chicklet. You did ask; hope you enjoy it <3

“Shit.”

Dan groggily pulled his face from the morass of his clumpy pillow and pried one grey eye open to stare balefully at his alarm clock.

Y’know, the one he’d forgotten to set last night.

The rebuke of the neon numbers glowing in the morning light pretty much just cussed right back at him with the mere fact of their existence.

“SHIT.” Ratcheting open the other eye, he practically levitated off his belly _(hello, morning wood – sorry, no time address you properly today)_ and onto the cheap carpet. Nearly tripping over the jeans he’d left in a tangled heap there, he hit two walls on his way into the shower and christened them both with the same epithet. Barely giving himself enough time to rinse off the soap before viciously twisting the taps shut he repeated it louder as he realized his electric razor was on the fritz. Again. Oh Hell, what wasn’t wonky in his life, lately?

Dressing quickly, he flew through the small galley kitchen in his very much ‘Gee, I’m a single-dad recycled bachelor; pity me’ apartment as he made for the door, snagging his keys and phone from the bowl beside it as he shouldered it open. Damn thing always stuck in the jamb. Saying ‘shit’ to loosen it seemed appropriate, so he did. Casting a last plaintive glance at the forlorn coffee pot he slammed the door and skittered quickly down the stairs.

Of course he hit traffic on his way in to the station. Of COURSE he did.

“Shit”.

No time to stop and try to clear the clogged pipes of his mind with caffeine on the way in. He’d had the weirdest dream…he didn’t really remember details (and probably wouldn’t lacking his legal drug of choice as he was), but he remembered the feeling.

Like he’d been somewhere so familiar…but like… substitute reality familiar? As if he’d existed in an alternate timeline? Or universe, even? Now THAT just sounded  stupid  . Like something freaking **Lucifer** would say. Just thinking of the man brought the now well-used word rolling off his tongue again.

“Shit.”

Finally squealing to a gravelly halt in the parking deck he slammed the car door and started stalking quickly toward the police station entrance. Ten paces away he said ‘shit’ under his breath and he turned and hustled back, retrieved his work bag from the trunk, dropped his keys, blessed the (later than he wanted!) hazy LA morning with another couple rounds of ‘shit!’ and booked back toward the maw of loose ends his professional life entailed.

As he swept through the lobby and headed towards the stairs he sent up a farce of a prayer, _‘please, please for the love of the_ _god-that-i-can’t-quite-believe-in-because-i-do-_ _this_ _-job-and-know-well-that-people-can-be-so-hideous,_ ** _please_** _let someone have made coffee and left enough for me. amen and piss_ _off’._

Scenting that potent elixir in the air as he clattered down the steps Dan breathed a sigh of relief. Finally  something  was going right this morning. Not even stopping by his desk (why did it still feel slightly weird to be here?) he scuttled toward the lounge and the salvation of caffeine just hoping not to run into anyone too challenging before he’d gotten his act back together. Well, at least as much as he was capable of.

Not much more than scalded dregs left in the rancid pot, but right now he wasn’t too picky. Fitting a slightly-warped plastic lid on top of the paper cup’s rolled rim (why the hell did these things NEVER fit snugly?) he finally took a sip, grimaced, took another one anyway and looked in the staff fridge, stomach growling.

Nothing but moldy string cheese in the crisper drawer and the prolifically fecund despair of shattered expectations.

Despite the fact that he KNEW he’d left two puddings and an apple in a bag **clearly** marked ‘Property of DAN: not YOU, Lucifer, you ASSHOLE’. That bastard!

“Shit!”

“Good morning to you, too. Nice of you to show up finally.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Assembling the makings for a fresh pot of coffee, Chloe smiled over at him in that quiet way she had. It always looked the same to almost everyone, but he could read depths in her expressions from sheer long-standing personal and professional proximity. She actually did look pretty happy. Good. At least someone was. He felt a mild pang, but was able to answer pleasantly enough when she asked if he was okay. She gave him a non-committal ‘mhm’ in response to his attempted brush off - she knew him well, too – and he sighed. ‘Shit’.

“Just a little snagged in a weird dream I can’t remember. And I overslept; was used to Trix waking me up early the last few days so I forgot to set the alarm.”

“Yeah, it’s odd for me when she’s not around, too. I get it.” The wounded quirk of Chloe’s mouth let him know she really did, and of course he knew that. He missed HER being around too, and he was hoping she DIDN’T know THAT.

He was wrong of course, but she knew water passed under bridges at different speeds for different people. Nothing to do there but go with the flow. She gave him a little tap on the shoulder as she walked past, saying, “Better coffee options for you than that junk in a couple minutes. See ya later. And parent-teacher conference tomorrow at 3. Don’t forget.”

Shit! He almost had! “Yeah, thanks Chloe.”

Deciding to punish himself for being a sappy, amnesiatic moron he didn’t wait for the fresh coffee and made his way over towards his desk with the swill in hand. Dan still didn’t understand the slight disorientation he was feeling…that dream maybe? Waking up and trying to function too fast? What was going on with his life? Huh. Just more mysteries he couldn’t solve.

A few notes of a melodious voice tickled its way into his ears and Dan looked up as he rounded a corner. SHIT. A small knot of people were coming his way with Charlotte Richards herself at the helm, that soul-sucking siren. He felt his cheeks begin to burn as he tried to sneak unobtrusively by.

No such luck.

“Hello Daniel.” Simper. Smirk. Gratuitous slimy smile over all of it.

Shit.

“Yeah, ‘hi’.”

Simper reprised.

They passed on, leaving him feeling slightly dirty in their wake. He glared briefly at the mournful twinge under his fly and hissed, “Traitor.”

Speaking of dicks…

“Interesting choice of facial grooming options, Daniel. Trying something new are we? Wonder where you could’ve gotten such inspiration from? I wonder, indeed…” Lucifer swept from behind him, spinning briefly to walk backwards a few steps while giving a sly tilt to his eyebrows and running a hand over his own perfectly perfect so goddamn PERFECT what the actual hell stubble on his way to Chloe’s office. Where they would probably bicker like horny kids while solving all their cases and the true meaning of life, the universe and everything else in the process.

“I know you stole my snacks again, you jerk! Aren’t you rich enough to get your own?!”

Dan yelled this at the shrug and chuckle Lucifer’s expensively-clad back left him in response. He decided to up the ante on the seasoning sprinkling his speech, even if was still only under his breath.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity, fucking fuck FUCK. And also:  fuck .”

He was quiet. No one could hear that unprofessional litany.

Well…

“Wow. I did not know that particular word was such a popular option for your vocabulary, man.”

Dan cringed, wondering exactly what else cranky karma had in store for him this morning. Freaking Ella. Little weird-dynamo-left-brained-possibly-omniscient-Ella. “Sorry. That was rude, I guess. Didn’t know anyone was close by.” ‘And has ears like a fucking bat’ was the follow-up thought.

“Nah, no worries. I’m hard to scare. Lots of brothers, lots of backstory. Not all deep waters are still, dude. Just surprised was all.”

Suddenly Dan bristled a little. Yeah, he’d made mistakes. Was still making them if you counted his involvement with Maze and the mob recently, but…but…but he wasn’t exactly a goody-goody patsy either! The benign fool. The white bread. The boring second-fiddle. Was he? Shit. Lacking further depreciating wishes and/or the required volume of effectively communicating brain cells to come up with more unflattering comparisons for himself he nearly spat, “Of course I know ‘that word’. Jesus, whaddya think I am?”

Ella made a show of mock-recoiling from him with an over-exaggerated ‘hands-up’ gesture. Faux conciliation spoiled completely by the over-acted and smirkily winked delivery.

“Easy there tiger! Rawr, etcetera. Just never heard such sass from you before, that’s all.”

“Well I’m a grown man in a gritty job, not some sap limited by ratings boundaries, so…”

“Yes, yes, I get it. You’re very fierce. And virile… **I guess** …in your way…sorry; just not my type.” She shrugged apologetically and he rolled his eyes. “But yep. Man’s man for sure. Oooh! Hey! ‘Dan the Man’! Everyone needs a nick! That can be mine for you!”

“Original stuff there, Ella. Never heard that before. Real fresh.” But Dan had to chuckle at her deliberate antics and felt slightly better as she caught him up on the last of yesterday’s case results. He was still helping friggin’ everyone and their grandma on their own stuff as he remained on probation. Not that he didn’t deserve it; it just sucked being the lackey.

Despite drowning in loose ends he’d wanted to leave early yesterday to have a nice dinner with Trixie before he took her to her mom’s; a picnic on the beach to watch the sunset like they’d done when she was little. She was growing up so fast and since so much had changed he just didn’t want to miss more with her than he had to. She was a bright spot in his life and now more than ever he appreciated her shine. Ella had taken like nine nanoseconds to assess the paperwork/parenting situation and had been the one to shove him out the door. Dan appreciated her for it. The girl might be strange, but she was **kind** and as far as he was concerned there was a significant lack of that in this world.

“You like ‘Dan-E’, better? Give you some street cred. Y’know, because your last name is ‘Espin-”.

Kind yes, but still too damn chirpy before proper levels of caffeination so he interrupted.

“Nope. **No** . Nuh-uh. Plain old ‘Dan’ is good, thanks.” That was him anyway, wasn’t it?  Plain old Dan .

“Okay.”

Crap, she looked slightly crestfallen. Dan sighed. “Hey, thanks again for helping me out yesterday. Meant a lot, really. I’ll get the rest of these processed first thing, and get back to you, okay?”

Ella’s second ‘okay’ in reply was far more on her perky par and she left him with a smile as he finally turned last corner to the nook where his desk was.

And promptly made a giant mess. SHIT!

Why could he have SWORN his desk was on the **other** side? He’d just dropped his coffee cup a fast three feet to a miserable, bespattered end. God, Forensics would love to photograph that spray pattern. Looked like a demented Rorschach slide or fucking art painted by rabid cats trapped in a methadone clinic. He sighed again, misery twining through every bone in his body and went down to his knees to retrieve the cup from under his desk. This morning could  not  get worse.

He’d been wrong before.

“Well, that’s certainly your better side. You should lead with that more often.”

Kneeling on the ground on in his shambolic excuse for an office, hopelessly un-caffeinated and now with his day fast-tracking to hell in a handbasket Dan just screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He did manage to hiss out a sarcastic, “Thanks Maze,” as he finally got scrabbly fingers on the cup and began to back out. She and her harsh bark of a laugh were gone by the time he straightened up and Dan just stank eyed a cross-armed Amenadiel leaning in the doorjamb.

“What?! What do YOU want?”

The man’s eyebrows just raised slightly and Dan drooped, weighted under a damp blanket of chagrin. Shit. Guy was a little weird but he seemed nice enough. And unlike his brother did not seem to actively be working to make his dickish status go from amateur to professional on the daily. He tried again.

“Sorry man. Been a rough morning. Did you need something?”

“No.” The deep voice didn’t sound all that happy either. “Just in the middle of a little…um, family business Maze is helping with and she wanted to stop in and pick up her check while we were nearby.” The low tone scraped even lower. “And see Sheila.”

“Accounting Sheila or…”, Dan looked around surreptitiously before adding, “…’Slutty Sheila’ from Vice?”

“What you YOU think?”

“Ouch.” Dan couldn’t figure **his** situation out either. Guy still seemed to hold a torch for Maze, and strangely enough she for him. But for whatever reason they seemed to be polar opposites despite having a lot of similarities. However that was just another weirdness Dan did not feel up to dealing with this morning.

Although that didn’t keep him from blurting out one more random thing to poor Amenadiel.

“Do you ever feel you’re not in the right place doing the right thing?”

And was surprised at his reply.

“All the time, actually.”

And Dan thought he’d never heard anyone sound so sincere about anything at all, ever. It made him feel a little better, actually. Less alone, even though he had no idea why. He clapped Amenadiel on the shoulder and said, “C’mon. I’ve gotta get a mop for this but first, Chloe made coffee and I absolutely must have that before any other disasters strike. Lemme get you one, too. Looks like you could use it…besides…you’re um, ‘waiting’ anyway, right?”

“Right.” Amenadiel sighed and let himself be led out.

As they walked together Dan cast an offhand comment about hoping there was some left, and Amenadiel smiled a caustic little smile as he replied, “Oh, I hope so, too. That will be a miracle.”


End file.
